


In a burning room

by mareavera



Category: Sabaton (Band)
Genre: Brotherly Love, F/M, Falling In Love, Mental Breakdown, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Warfare, Strong Female Characters, Svenska | Swedish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-24 02:39:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9696098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mareavera/pseuds/mareavera
Summary: An unexpected encounter. An unexpected relationship. An unexpected situation. Upon his return home, there will be a lot waiting for him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I do not own any of the characters in this story, aside from my own original character, Claire Norling. This work is going to be respectful to those who actually have suffered and suffer from post traumatic stress disorder, and those that have faced and are still facing the horrors of the war they have been fighting for all of us.

It was an Irish pub, which wasn’t so strange to find in such a big city as Stockholm. The shelves behind the counter were filled with all sorts of alcohol, and the typical, dimmed light of that kind of places made everything seem sleepy. For being a Thursday night, there were actually quite a few people. Or at least, that was what Claire Norling thought, as she lift up her head to look around from a moment. Sitting on a stool, she rubbed her eyes under the reading glasses, taking a break from reading. She couldn’t even remember how long she had been there, the only thing she knew was that she had been caught up in the Ken Follett novel she had grabbed from the library, that same day. Her brother found it amazing, how she could manage to end up reading even after an exhausting day of studying at University, hidden behind piles of Norse language books. Still, the professor whom she was working with had suggested that particular novel to her. 

She took a sip from the pint of Harp beer in front of her, her fingers getting cold for a second as they lift up the glass. With the corner of her eye, she could see someone approaching her. She didn’t mind it, thinking that maybe it could have been just someone else wanting to have a beer. So she focused again on her book, minding her own business. That was when she heard the figure that had approached her clear his throat. Once, twice. Until she decided to give him his attention. 

 

"Hej.” the newcomer said, in Swedish. Claire caught side of the man. A round face, groomed facial hair on his jawline; a short mohawk in the middle of his head, dark hair. He didn’t look Swedish, or even Scandinavian. At all. He was leaning with an elbow on the counter, and had the corner of his lips curved into a smile.  

 

“Hello.” She replied, getting back to reading. She forced herself to grin at him, thinking that it wouldn’t have been very polite of her to completely ignore him.

 

"You seem busy.” The young man insisted, again in Swedish. 

 

"I am. Thanks for noticing.” Claire replied to him in the same language, rolling her eyes for a second. She was really hoping that he would get the hint. 

 

“I’m leaving Sweden, tomorrow.” He said, sitting on the stool to her left with one of his legs. Claire took another sip of her beer, licking the remains of it from her lips with her tongue. She could see he was making an effort in talking to her like that; it seemed like he had grasped all of his courage to come talk to her. 

 

"That’s…interesting, I guess.” she replied, her eyes lingering on the curve of his muscles as his arm leant on the counter.

 

"Seriously though.” he continued. Claire didn’t even want to look him in the eyes. She just wanted to be left alone. 

 

"I just want to have a beer and read my book.” she said again, her eyes stuck to the pages of her novel. 

 

"And I just want to tell you that I’ll be leaving for Syria, on a peace mission in which the Swedish army is taking part in.” the young man spoke, hoping to get the girl’s attention. Claire could hear the tip of his fingers tap on the wooden counter. 

 

"I don’t believe you but…eh. Who am I to judge?” she replied, raising her eyebrows. She smirked, and heard him snort.

 

"You don’t believe me?” he asked. With a very quick glance at his face, she shook her head. 

 

"Not at all."

 

"I’m a soldier. I really am."

 

"I see no uniform.” one of her small fingers pointed at his clothes. He was wearing a leather jacket, decorated on its sleeves, above what looked like a Judas Priest t-shirt. 

 

"That’s because I’m off duty. Private Broden, at your service, ma’am.” the man lifted up a hand, doing the military salute. She heard the heels of his shoes click on the wooden floor. She closed the book leaving a hand between the pages, so she would not lose the point to which she had arrived. She slowly turned on the stool, feeling annoyance build up inside her stomach.

 

"Okay, okay. Before I tell you to flick off so that I can go back to Ken Follett-“ 

 

"Oh. ‘ _Jackdaws_ ’. I’ve read that one.” The guy, with two fingers, was holding up the cover of the book, that was still between Claire’s hands. She instinctively pulled away, bringing the book next to her chest. 

 

"…Right. Before I go back to Ken Follett, why are you telling me that you’re leaving for Syria? Why me, and not the pretty Swedish girl over there. Or that one, the one sitting next to the pool table.” as she spoke, Claire discreetly hinted at the girls she had mentioned. The guy looked around, and scrolled his shoulders. He put his lower lip slightly forward, almost in a pout. 

 

"Because you seem interesting. And I wanted to speak to someone interesting before I leave for a month for a foreign country.” he continued, still speaking in Swedish. "And man, your British accent. Your Swedish is a bit rusty though, I’m afraid.” he added, this time switching to English. He had a playful smile on his pink lips, under his facial hair. Claire was fighting against her girly side; his smile was contagious, and sweet. She wasn’t going to let him win her over.

 

"Leave my Swedish alone, please. Do you really think that you’re the first one to hit on me because of my British accent?” she replied to him, all of her English self coming out. The man smiled, this time with a sort of a cocky expression. He was an idiot. That’s what he was. A complete idiot trying to lure her with that stupid smile of his. 

 

"Of course not. And I’m not hitting on you.” he justified himself. 

 

"Then, what are you doing, if I may ask?” she looked at him, skeptic. Before answering, he came a little closer to her. 

 

"I’m trying to make a bet with you.” he told her, almost as if he wanted to confess a secret to her. 

 

"A bet?” she replied, unbelieving. 

 

"Yes, a bet."

 

"Do you promise me that if I accept this bet you’ll let me read my book in peace?” Claire asked him, finally letting the book down in front of her. She took a last gulp of beer, and pushed the empty glass towards the other end of the counter. 

 

"I promise.” he said, making a cross on his heart with one of his fingers. He waited, expectantly. His hand now resting on his hips. 

 

"…Go on then.” as she said that, the young man let himself go to another smile. He was definitely taller than she was, and looked down at her. 

 

"I say that I’m going to Syria, and you say that it’s not true. I bet I can prove to you that I’m going to Syria, by video calling you from there, tomorrow.” Claire scoffed him as he said so. It was such a creative trick to convince her into giving him her number. Very creative, she had to admit. He was a few inches away from her, she could almost feel the strong perfume he was wearing. 

 

"That way you’ll get my number anyways.” she explained. The man, now very seriously, shook his head. 

 

"I just want to prove a point.” he replied. Claire thought about it for a second. She scratched the back of her head, and lingered to play with a tuft of her short, light brown hair. 

 

"What if I win the bet and you’re just a buffoon?” she challenged him. He raised his dark eyebrows at her. 

 

"If you win, I’m going to cancel your number from my contacts, and disappear.” Claire listened. It didn’t seem like he was playing anymore. She noticed his chest going up and down as he breathed, and noticed his heart beating in his throat. It was faster than she would have thought. 

 

"And what if you win?” she asked. 

 

"We go on a date.” the young man said that naturally, almost as if he thought that she should have imagined such an outcome. 

 

"What?"

 

"We go on a date, once I’m back from the mission.” he said again. Claire smoothed down the pages of her book. She brought her thumb to her mouth, to bite on its nail; yet, she stopped immediately once she had thought about how long it had taken to her to stop biting her nails. She wouldn’t have let him be the cause of that nervous habit again. 

 

"You’re crazy.” she said, after a few seconds in silence. 

 

"I’m a crazy Swede, you’re a cold hearted British woman. What could possibly go wrong?” he was leaning on the counter with his elbow again. From the sleeve of his leather jacket slightly going up, she noticed the tribal tattoo on his wrist. She sat there, in silence, letting the sounds form the pub crowd her senses. He heard it sigh again, and saw him fiddling with the ring on his right hand. "Do you accept, or not?"

 

"…I cannot believe that I’m saying this, but yes. I accept.” Claire said that sentence in a single breath. A more rational version of herself would have just ignored the guy. Maybe, she was feeling adventurous, or just curious. And she had accepted his proposal. She saw him take out the smartphone from the pocket of his jeans, and as he tapped very quickly on the screen Claire swore that she had seen his fingers tremble for the blink of an eye. 

 

“Please type your phone number here. And press enter.” he let her take the smartphone in her hands, and observed as she put in her number. He would have found out that it was a fake number only the day after, and he honestly didn’t want to think about it. In his heart he could feel an unceasing warmth growing, especially coming from the fact that he had overcome his natural shyness to go that far. "Thank you, your majesty.” he added, once he had gained his phone back. She snorted, and he found it adorable.

 

"The fact that I’m British doesn’t imply that…oh well. I guess it’s no use.” Claire had paused mid-sentence to realize that he was just being a fool, and there really was no use in telling him that he should have stopped calling her with stereotypical names. 

 

"No use at all. I’ll call you tomorrow as soon as I get settled, cold woman.” he slipped the phone back into his pocket, and held out a hand to her. "My name is Joakim.” For the first time, Claire decided to look him in the eyes. They were two deeply green mirrors staring down at her. She placed her small hand in his, and shook it; his hand being twice as big as hers. It was warm, and a little sweaty. 

 

“Claire.” she replied. Joakim bowed his head, and finally let her hand go. He zipped up his jacket, before taking out his wallet and placing the right amount of Swedish crowns in the middle of her book. Claire looked at his gestures, puzzled. 

 

"Good night, cold Claire. Enjoy your Ken Follett novel.” he said. "Your next beer is on me.” he added, with another smile. 

 

"You don’t have to.” she took the money in her hands, and offered it back to him. He shook his head, firmly, making that little pout again. 

 

"I want to.” he replied. Then, he started walking towards the exit of the pub. 

 

"Good night, crazy Joakim. I’ll win the bet, and you’ll disappear.” Claire said a little out loud, making a few people turn around. Joakim let a laugh out, the first one she had ever heard coming out from his mouth. 

 

"Don’t stop believing.” he replied, as he pushed his hand on the pub’s door. Claire opened her book again, the money in her hands. She thought and thought about what had just happened, just as John Mayer’s  _Slow dancing in a burning room_ started playing in the background. She went back to Felicity Jones, and the other characters of Ken Follett’s novel. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"When you'll come back, you'll be richer in the mind and in the heart."_

They had arrived at the military base, that was about fifty kilometers away from the Syrian city of Damascus. It was one of the truce days that had been agreed on, so that the people would have enough peace to reorganize, and the various humanitarian missions would have had a chance to do what they could. It was a hot and windy day. Joakim was walking behind his friend, and military superior, Sergeant Pär Sundström. To him, he was just his long time friend, Pär.

 

 

Joakim had a pair of sunglasses on, very useful to shield his eyes from the dust rising from the ground. The blue helmet with the UN logo on it, the thick uniform of the Swedish army sticking to his body. All of them were armed, for praxis. They were a small group, walking behind the commander in chief of the camp. They went inside the biggest container of the camp, that served as a hall and as a reunion place for every military man camp. Once inside, Joakim took off his helmet, with a sigh. Still standing, he went to sit next to Pär, in the first row of chairs, in front of a tall, American man. 

 

"You alright?" Pär got closer to Joakim's ear. He had very deep blue eyes, as clear as his soul. Long hair, for the occasion pulled up in a low tail behind his head. He was the closest thing Joakim had to a brother, being the only son of a divorced mother. 

 

"All good." Joakim lifted up his thumb at him, after he had placed the AK 5 next to his chair. The weapon stood there, menacing, it's cane leaning onto Joakim's right leg. "A bit nauseated by the flight, but I got a tough stomach." Pär jokingly patted Joakim's thigh. In a moment, the entire room was quiet. The tall American man friendly smiled at them. 

 

"Colonel Rogers, head of UN operations here at Camp Damascus." he introduced himself. He was in his forties, with strong facial features and a well groomed red beard framing his face. "I'd like to welcome back Sergeant Sündström, and an heartfelt welcome to those who are here for the first time. I see a few new faces, and that really gives me joy." Rogers looked at Joakim, who sustained his gaze. "Within the month you'll be staying with us, we honestly hope that we'll manage to accomplish a lot." Rogers continued speaking. He had the marines uniform, a metal tag hanging from his neck. 

 

"I'll keep this short and sweet. While you'll be here, me and Sergeant Sündström will be your guide, teacher and commander. You'll be assigned to various tasks, and you'll join other members of the coalization." Joakim listened, taking off his sunglasses. He felt dust in each of his pores. "There's so much to do here, like bringing resources such as medicins and basic life supplies to the UN refugees camps in this areas. Looking after young children and new borns, for those of you who are familiar with it, so that mothers and fathers can work on the documents they need to ask for political asylum." The wind outside the container kept on raging.

 

"The most difficult task, to which you'll get assigned if you specifically ask for it, is the reason why this truce is so important. Small groups of us leave the camp everyday to visit the destroyed parts of Damascus, and  even go up to Aleppo, to seek for alive citizens that might still be hiding in the buildings." Joakim glanced at Pär: that was what he had signed up for. The aim to which he hoped to dedicate himself to. "Seeking for dead citizens, will be a priority as well. So that we can take them back to the camp, and help their families to find them. It won't be easy, remember this is a peace mission in a country that is living a civil war. And war is war, no matter how big or small it may be.” 

 

Every soldier in the room lent their ears to the Colonel's words. He had spoken as frankly as he could have done, to make things very clear. Being a very honest person himself, Joakim instantly felt a connection to the man. Still, an unpleasant shiver crossed his back, sweaty under the Swedish Army M90 desert uniform that was sticking to his skin. "Tonight you'll be free to get to know the camp. Rest well, and tomorrow morning you'll be assigned to the different teams. Hope I have been clear enough." The colonel looked at all their faces. "If the sergeant has something to say?" Pär immediately stood up. There was a patch saying ‘fänrik', on his arm. And the UN and Swedish Armed Forces patches were right under it. He shook hands with the colonel, that was taller than him of about fifteen centimeters. Pär didn't seem to mind that at all. 

 

"You already know everything you need to know." Pär said, serious. "Listen, be careful, and when it's possible try to think that you're here because our country has decided to contribute to world peace." Joakim watched his friend being the military officer he had chosen to become. That wasn't like being in the security battalion; no stations or crowded streets, no part time jobs. For that month, things would have been definitely real. "Stockholm and Dalarna will be a far thought. When you'll come back, you'll be richer in the mind and in the heart. And as the Belgians say..." he opened his arms at his men, and waited for their answer.

 

"Resiste et mords!" the eight men under his command replied, in a single choir. Colonel Rogers felt like applauding, slightly amused. Joakim, with a smile, shook his head at his friend and commander. 

 

"Resist and bite." Pär explained to Rogers. "I am kind of an history nerd, colonel." Rogers chuckled, and nodded. 

 

"Dismiss, everyone." The colonel said, after Pär had finished speaking. 

 

* * *

 

A couple of hours later, after eating together with the others, Joakim was on his bed. He had taken off his combat boots, and was laying with a foot on the other, tapping on his smartphone. The bed wasn’t that bad at all, and the long room in which all of the members of his division would have lived had enough air for everybody. There was a small window between Joakim’s bed and the one next to is; it was open, and some air was desperately trying to get inside.

 

Pär had entered the room, and everyone had saluted him. He quickly dismissed them with a lazy hand gesture, and went sitting on the bed near the door, the one next to Joakim’s. The sergeant untied his hair, that for the best part of the day had been put up in a pony tail. He scratched the back of his head, satisfied; then, he sat down with a loud sigh.

 

“Long day?” Joakim asked to his friend. Pär nodded, his lips under the beard curling in a smile.

 

“Long day.” he replied. Then, he adjusted himself to sit on the bed, to remove his boots. “Have you called her already?” Joakim felt surprised at the perfect timing. He had been caught in the exact moment in which he was about to push the “call” button.

 

“Right on time.” Joakim smiled, showing the phone to Pär. Pär chuckled, taking off his tags and his shirt, remaining only with a white tank. He wasn’t as big as Joakim, but his body was still defined.

 

“I still can’t believe how you went up to a girl just like that.” Pär said. “You’ve changed, after all.”

 

“Indeed.” Joakim took a deep breath. His long fingers slid down the contacts, until he found her. Claire. He glanced at Pär one last time, seeing how he let down his head on the pillow and closed his eyes, humming a song. Then, Joakim tapped on the small icon of a videocamera. He closed his eyes as he heard the phone ring.

 

* * *

 

 

Claire was standing in front of the kitchen table, a knife in her hand as she chopped down carrots and other vegetables to make a salad. She had just arrived home after a tiring day of studying and researching at the University, and she just wanted to sit down to have a homemade meal.

 

On the other side of the open space kitchen, sitting on the couch, was her older brother, Chris. He was a medium height young man, with long brown hair that tended to be curly to its ends. He had brown eyes, just like Claire, and he had a dark beard framing his round face. His hands moved on the guitar frets of the classic Fender he was playing on, improvising. The sound of him playing was filling the room. It wasn’t loud as usual; this time he had chosen to stay clean, almost as if he wanted to create an atmosphere.

 

“How come you’re playing on a Fender? You hate them.” Claire had noticed how her brother wasn’t using his more modern, habitual guitar. Chris’ fingers kept playing, as he shrugged his shoulders.

 

“I don’t even know.” he replied. “Guess I just want to give this a chance. It’s not that bad, but it’s not my cup of tea.” Claire chuckled, taking a bamboo bowl from above the kitchen counter to place the salad in.

 

Then, Chris stopped playing. He stood up, and walked barefoot towards Claire, holding something in his hand. Her phone, and it was ringing. The girl noticed, and furrowed her brows at him, looking up at this face.

 

“How did you hear it?” she asked, taking the smartphone in her small hand. Chris pointed to his ears.

 

“I’m a superhero. Never forget that.” he said, as he grabbed a couple of plates to lay the table. Claire looked at her phone. A number she didn’t know, that was video calling her. She turned pale, and then her cheeks turned red. Holding her breath for a second, she accepted the call. She wouldn’t believe her eyes as Joakim’s face appeared on the screen. He was waving at her, with a joyful smile. Then, he burst out in a laugh, visibly amused.

 

“I’m glad that my face is so ridiculous to you.” Claire replied, brushing a hand through her hair. She couldn’t help but smile back at him. His laugh was contagious.

 

“It’s just…you should look at you. Your expression is priceless.” he said, speaking English in his familiar accent.

 

“Well, I see that you’re enjoying the taste of victory.” she said, one of her brows lifting up. In the meantime, Chris glanced at that scene. It hadn’t been a while since he had seen her sister be so shy with someone. Silently, he went on preparing dinner from where Claire had left it, pushing a tuft of hair behind his ear.

 

“Victory.” Joakim repeated, mocking her British accent. “I love how you say it. But yes, I am enjoying it very much.” Joakim tried to grasp every glance of her that he could. How she licked her lips from time to time, how her index finger played with one of her earrings.

 

“Then, how long until our first date, private Joakim?” Claire said, playfully. She took a look at his thick neck, at the curve of his deltoids covered by a white t-shirt.

 

“Thirty-two days.” he said, nodding. “Don’t hide it, I know you can’t wait.” Claire chuckled.

 

“Time will tell, I guess.” she said.

 

“I will call you every day.” Joakim said. Claire was surprised, and felt her cheeks blushing. “So that I can remind you how many days until that glorious evening.” he smirked, with a sweet expression on his features. He was taking courage in his hands once again, and felt like he could take on the world.

 

“You can, if you want to.” Claire agreed. She looked down at her feet for a moment, shyly. Joakim took the chance to eye her up, and to print her features in his mind. In the dimmed light of her kitchen, even through the screen, she seemed adorable as the evening before, when he had met her for the first time.

 

“I think it’s time for me to go to sleep. I’ve had a full day.” Joakim said, definitely feeling sad about the call ending. “How was your day, by the way?” Claire looked at him again. She could see his eyes, again. They were green. Then they were hazel.

 

“Long.” she replied. “Thank you for asking, anyway.” Claire watched as Joakim slightly bowed his head.

 

“I’ll leave you to your civilian life then.” he said, after he had let out a yawn. “Have a good night, Claire.” Joakim smiled. Claire waved at him.

 

“Have a good night, private.” she replied, bringing her hand to her forehead to make the military salute. Joakim replied to it, making a serious face for a moment; then, he winked at her. Claire closed the video call, tapping on her smartphone. She stared at it, for a second of trance. Then, she finally sat down at the table, where Chris was already eating, as he watched the news on the tv.

 

“Who was that?” he asked. He had tried to hold it in, but he was too curious.

 

“No one.” she replied. “Just a guy.” Chris nodded, understanding. He knew her too well, and was curious about it. Yet, he decided to let it go for the moment. He observed her features and noticed the content smile that had started to appear on her pink lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has given a chance to this story! You're amazing!  
> \- mareavera


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Then talk to me about it like a big girl, Claire.” he echoed her voice tone, and smiled as she rolled her eyes. She was about to give in._

 

Chris opened the door of the school’s main entrance, keeping it open. He watched over them as the children passed under his arm, saying bye to him. Some of the parents waved at Chris, and he replied with a tired, but sincere smile. Once everybody had left, he let the door shut behind himself and went down the few steps. With the guitar on his back and the shoulder bag hanging from his side he walked through the garden. His hair was pulled up in a bun above his head, like it was every time when he was teaching.  

He looked up at the grey sky, and grimaced at it; it wasn’t yet a cold day, because autumn was still in full swing, preluding to the cold winter months by leaving them some warm weather to enjoy. As he closed the metal gate to get out of the garden, he heard a whistle.

The young Swedish man looked around, until his eyes saw the only person in the world who could ever get his attention like that. Claire. She stood on the other side of the road, and she had just gotten off the bus. She was wearing a long black trench, her reading glasses still on. Chris couldn’t quite put his finger on why she looked even smaller than usual. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked her, surprised. Claire pouted at him, and lightly slapped his arm. 

“I got out of the office early, and I wanted to see if you felt like taking a stroll and a coffee.” Claire looked up at her older brother’s round face. He smiled at her, and leant down a little so that she could leave a kiss on his bearded cheek. Then, he left one on her forehead. 

The two brothers left the school’s neighbourhood, and took the train at the nearest underground station to get back to the city center. After walking for a while through the streets of the capital, telling each other about their days, stopping by in front of a few shops just to see if there was something interesting. The most entertaining moment was when both of them got annoyed at the big department store selling band t-shirts like they were a fashion statement. 

After an hour, they were sitting at one of the outside tables of a not very busy coffee house, enjoying the fact that there weren’t many tourists around. 

“Couldn’t you not smoke in front of me?” Chris said, glaring at Claire. He grabbed the pack of cigarettes and firmly put it in the pocket of his sweatshirt. The girl had already lit up a slim cigarette, and was holding it between her fingers. She let out a cloud of smoke, tilting her head back.

“It helps me relax.” Claire justified herself, taking off her glasses and leaving them on the table. Chris scoffed her.

“Nicotine can make you more nervous, actually.” Chris replied. Claire rolled her eyes, and drank from her cup of hazelnut American coffee. 

Chris took a sip of his strong black tea, and looked around the square, after he had let his hair loose. His eyes were caught by two young men in the Swedish Army uniform, and he felt a little smile climb onto his lips. He observed them as they walked on the concrete, speaking to each other. Claire was lazily looking down at her smartphone, the cup in her other hand. It was one of her no make-up days, and he loved when she did that, because it testified how on that day she was feeling absolutely careless towards the rest of the world, and relaxed about her looks. 

“Okay, I can’t hold it in any longer.” Chris stood up, and brought his chair closer to Claire, on the other side of the table. She raised an eyebrow at him, placing the cup back on the table. 

“What?”

“It’s been four days since that man has started calling you every day.” he said, with a playful and curious expression in his brown eyes. “Tell me all about it.” Claire felt her cheek become warm. 

“There’s really not much to say.” she tried to avoid the subject. Chris snorted. 

“You used to tell me everything about your crushes.” he replied, his lower lip pouting. 

“This is not a crush.” she replied, crossing her arms on her chest after putting the cigarette down in the ashtray in front of her. “I’m not a teenager anymore, Chris.”

“Then talk to me about it like a big girl, Claire.” he echoed her voice tone, and smiled as she rolled her eyes. She was about to give in. 

“The reason I don’t want to talk about it that much is because...I’m enjoying it, all of this.” she said, finally. She sat in silence, looking at Chris’ eyes for a moment. Then, she sighed deeply; that was the cue he was waiting for. Chris ruffled up her hair, victorious. 

“His name is Joakim.” she started. Saying his name made her feel something in her stomach that she couldn’t define yet. “I believe he’s a couple of years older than you are, and he’s a soldier.” Chris listened, with interest on his face. “He is...in Syria, at the moment. He is on a peace mission, with the United Nations.” the older brother made a surprised, yet content expression. 

“Swedish?” he asked. Claire nodded. He was listening to her, his chin resting on his palm. “What does he look like?” at that question, the young woman looked up at the grey sky. She couldn’t stop the stupid smile that got to her lips. 

“He...has a mohawk.” she said, to which Chris let a chuckle out. “Dark hair, sideburns, a mustache. He’s well groomed, actually. Definitely taller than me, robust. I think he has a tattoo on his wrist.” 

“I thought you liked them better blonde, and with long hair.” he joked. She pushed him on his shoulder. 

“Well this is not the case.” she replied, visibly bothered. “The past is in the past.”

“You’re still not over it. Are you?” Chris said, patting on her thigh. Claire looked away from him for a second. She didn’t liked him when he insisted and tried to bring things up.  

“Do you want me to tell you about Joakim or not?” she said, irritated. Chris held up his hands. 

“Alright, alright.” he apologised. “How did you guys meet?” Claire seemed to have calmed down. She drank some more coffee before answering his question. 

“That’s a weird story actually.” she said. “Remember the other night when you were out rehearsing? I decided I didn’t want to stay home, and just went to have a beer in that Irish pub that a colleague told me about. It had been a hectic day and I didn’t want anyone bothering me, until this...guy comes up to me, and tells me he’s going to Syria the next day.” Claire shrugged her shoulders, as Chris looked at her. “Of course I didn’t believe him, so...long story short, he bets with me that if he can prove to me that he’s actually going to Syria, I will go on a date with him once he comes back from the mission.” 

“I’m actually both very surprised and happy at the fact that you’ve found someone you’re interested in.” Chris stated, scratching his beard. “I never thought you’d fall for somebody that comes up to you with such initiative.” 

“Let me put you on hold for a second.” Claire stopped him. “I didn’t fall for anybody, not yet at least.” Chris raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s exactly the reason why I didn’t want to talk to you about it.” 

“Hey, calm down.” Chris said, his fingers touching her arm. “You didn’t fall, okay. It’s just...that when I hear your voice when he calls you, for these ten minutes or so, you seem calm and joyful. I don’t see you like that very often, so I’m glad that he’s making you feel like this.” he explained, his voice tone soft and sweet. Claire hated when he talked to her like that, telling her the truth she didn’t want to know. 

“I’d just like to take it as slowly as it is possible.” Claire sighed. “This...thing will go on, day by day. I’ve already made the mistake of planning my life with somebody, you know it. I don’t want to do that mistake again.” The young woman pushed back the memories that were starting to appear in her head, trying not to let herself focus on her past. Again. 

“That’s actually a good strategy.” Chris replied. He pushed a tuft of hair behind his ear, and then stood up. “Come on. I’d like to take a walk down the harbour before it gets to dark.” Claire nodded and gathered her things. As they started walking next to each other, Chris let an arm around her shoulders. He knew when to stop, and he definitely had bothered her too much with his curiosity. He smiled to himself as he felt her head lean on his chest. 

 

* * *

 

 

“...to simplify, that is why we are all sons and daughters of Odin, no matter if you’re a god or a human.” 

The Swedish man was sitting outside, on a bench near the entrance of the container in which he slept in. Joakim’s dog tag hanged from his neck, his full uniform still on. He was on a video call with Claire, as every day since day one in Syria.

“My mother preferred to tell me tales of the Slavic mythology, when I was a child.” Joakim stated. “And I loved my grandfather’s anecdotes about World War two.” Claire, on the other side of the screen, was listening to him as she was sitting on the sofa in her small living room. 

“Does it have something to do with why you’re in the Army?” she asked. Joakim scratched the back of his head, where hair was already growing. 

“No, that’s another story.” he said, with a light chuckle. “Will you read me more of the myths that you’re translating, once I am back?” Claire smiled, playfully. 

“We’re translating them to find comparisons between Germanic and Norse mythology, linguistically speaking.” she replied. “If you want to know more, I guess I can read some more of it to you.” Joakim smiled back at her. It was good to have some time to ease his mind off things. The fact that he found her voice to be extremely soothing to his ears was actually a plus. From the door of the container, Pär appeared. He leant against the door’s jamb, silent. He didn’t want to bother Joakim, in any way, actually. The soldier, though, noticed him. He turned his head, and smiled at him; then, he turned the phone towards him. 

“Hey Claire, meet Pär.” Joakim said, looking up at his friend’s surprised face. “He’s my friend, and my superior. Say hi, Pär.” The man with long hair leant down a little, to look at the girl in the smartphone screen. Claire had a cute, shy smile on her lips. Pär waved at her. 

“Hello, Pär.” she said, her English accent saying his Swedish name. 

“Nice to meet you, Claire.” he said, waving back. “Say hi to Sweden for me.” the girl nodded. Then, Pär decided to lean again against the door, minding his own thoughts. Joakim turned the phone towards himself again. 

“He’s a cute one, isn’t he?” Joakim told Claire. She looked up, and shrugged her shoulders. 

“He has nice hair. I’ll have you know, I used to have long hair as well.” Claire said, to which Joakim raised an eyebrow, interested. “But now...if I had the courage, I’d shave my hair completely.” 

“I’d do it, if I were you.” Joakim replied. “Look at me. Takes a little maintenance, but I’m not into the eighties glam rock look anymore.” Claire laughed, seeing how he played around with the mohawk on his head. Joakim loved to make her laugh; almost as if it had been his duty. “Anyway, I’ll better go and get some rest now.” Claire, on the other side of the video call, recollected herself and nodded. 

“You’re a funny guy.” Claire smiled. Joakim pretended to lift a hat above his head. 

“And proud to be.” he replied. “Sleep tight, girl.” 

“Thanks. You too.” she waved at him with her small hand, and closed the call. Joakim gently bit on his lower lip, thoughtful. 

Then, his hand slipped under his shirt, to take out a very thin necklace. Hanging from it was a golden wedding ring. Joakim took the necklace off, holding it in his hand for a second. It was the first time he had ever removed it from around his neck, since everything had happened. And for the first time in a very long time, Joakim looked at it and smiled.   Pär noticed it, and got closer to his friend. 

“That’s a huge step.” Pär said. Joakim nodded. “Then, follow me.” Joakim walked next to his sergeant, his small frame leading the way. Under the setting sun of the Syrian autumn, they got until the entrance of the camp. Pär asked to the guards to let them go out for a moment, and after explaining to them the reason very quickly, him and Joakim went past the security barrier. 

They could see the city of Damascus from there, even some of its destroyed buildings. Joakim looked at Pär, and understood what his friend was encouraging him to do. After a deep breath, he took a few steps forwards, and crouched on the ground. His hands dug a small hole in the earthy soil covered by a thin layer of sand. When it was done, he let the ring fall inside it. The Swedish man carefully covered it back up, and stood up. Pär was now behind him; he patted his back, and smiled. 

“It was the right time.” Joakim said. “It is, the right time.” 

“I told you. You’ve healed, finally.” the smaller man said, as they walked back inside the camp. “Finally free.”

“Finally free.” Joakim replied, with a sincere smile. He had relieved himself of a big, massive stone on his chest. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had felt so free. Claire’s brown eyes flashed in his head, as well as her laughter. He looked up at the darkening sky, and sighed, content.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _His eyes, his voice, the slightly dark circles under his eyelids. All of it._

The refugee camp was a group of various tents, scattered around in a two kilometer radius. There were a lot of people coming and going, with jeeps and humvees. Joakim had offered himself to drive until the camp; the humvee was a massive, armored vehicle, and he had driven one of those only during his training. It had felt completely different, actually.

The dry but warm weather watched over him, Par and three other companions of his division; they had been assigned to the camp, to bring in supplies that they had brought from Sweden. As soon as they got off the vehicle, they were greeted by two UN medics, escorted by a Syrian one. Pär was the first one to come out, as the commander. He exchanged a very strong handshake with the medic, that he had met the previous time he had visited the camp. Joakim and the other soldiers started taking the big cardboard boxes filled with medical and basic life supplies out of the back of the humvee, and followed the medics and the Syrian doctor to a big tent. As he was walking, Joakim felt something touch his trousers. With a big and heavy box in his hand, he looked down. A little girl, that should have been about five years of age, with caramel brown skin, a long braid of black hair, and round, black eyes. She walked next to him, following him around.

“Rasha.” the medic that led them sighed, with a smile. Then, he said something in Arabic to her, almost as if he wanted to send her away.

“She’s not bothering me, doctor.” Joakim said, looking down at her from behind his sunglasses. He wondered how they looked from the outside; the tall Swedish soldier, followed around the refugee camp by a girl shorter than his thigh. Once in the tent, he let down the box together with the others, and went back again to the humvee. Rasha, the little Syrian girl, was still by his side. Pär chuckled, as he talked with the medic and caught up with was to do on that day. Joakim returned to the tent, another box between his arms. The girl was next to him, curiously looking up at him. She studied the lines of his weapon, and with a tiny finger she traced the geometric shapes of his camouflage.

“They are going to distribute the supplies between the tents.” Pär said, talking to Joakim and his companions. “We are going past the border with Lebanon within the day, to leave the other boxes to two other camps.” Joakim nodded, as he listened to his superior. That meant he had to let go of his adorable follower, to go on with his duty. After he had finished talking with the medic, Pär went outside with Joakim. Their weapons were safely across their shoulders, as stood in place and looked around. The sun was high in the sky, that was of a very intense cerulean color. The Syrian girl was slowly going around Joakim and Pär as well, looking up at him. Perplexed, she looked at his long hair under the helmet.

“You’ve got a fan.” Pär said. Joakim chuckled, looking down at her.

“Was she here the last time you visited?” he asked, adjusting the sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. Pär started walking, and Joakim followed. So did Rasha.

“No, she’s new.” Pär stated. “They come and go, and this is one of the smallest camps.” Then, his lips curved into a smile under his facial hair. “The last time I was here, I met a boy though. His name was Bassel. He was about twelve years old, and he had been brought here after a serious bombing in the city. He had lost an eye.” Joakim listened to his friend, to the melancholic voice tone he had as he spoke about him. “After regaining his senses though, he was such a talker. He wouldn’t stop talking in English with me, and every day I visited him on camp, he would tell me about what he would have done once he would have gotten out of Syria.” Pär sighed deeply, taking his helmet off for a second, and scratching the back of his hair.

“Is he still here?” Joakim asked. The sergeant shook his head.

“One day I came to do my duty on camp, and he wasn’t here anymore.” Pär said, wearing the helmet again. “From what I’ve found out, he succeeded in arriving in Germany. Who knows? Maybe someday I’ll see him once more.” Joakim gave Pär a pat on the back, as the two started walking back to the humvee. Rasha hurried up and followed. Once they arrived at the vehicle, Joakim took his phone out of his pocket, and got closer to the girl. In amazement, she looked at Joakim first, and then at the camera. He shot the picture of him together with her, as Pär let a soft chuckle out. Then, Joakim crouched in front of her.

“Pär, can you translate something for me?” Joakim asked. Pär nodded, and got near them. “Tell her that it was nice meeting her. And that now I have a picture of us to remember her.” Rasha looked up at Joakim, and as she heard Pär speaking in Arabic she focused herself on him. Once he had finished speaking, she lift up her small hand, and caressed his cheek, chuckling as her fingertips touched his facial hair. Joakim smiled back at her, and felt his heart burst together with her laugh. The medic got closer to them, and took Rasha’s hand. he said something to her, and she waved at the small group of soldiers.

“I can’t wait to show the picture to Claire.” Joakim said, once they were back in the humvee again. Pär chuckled, adjusting himself on the passenger’s seat. The road was rocky under the vehicle’s wheels, the sun was shining and the day was still long ahead of them. 

* * *

 

 

The doorbell rang, as Claire was in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to be ready for tea. She put on one of Chris’ old sweatshirts one of the ones that she used to keep herself warm at home, and went to open the door. She looked up at the newcomer, and felt her blood freeze; her face must have been completely white at that point.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Thobbe.” Claire had a very hard time pronouncing the name of the man that was in front of her. He had an apologetic smile on his pink lips. The beard, cut short, was blonde like his long hair, that fell on his shoulders. His clear blue eyes were trying the best not to make her feel uncomfortable.

“I need to get my pedals back.” He said, hands in his pocket. “Chris borrowed them the other day, and I need them for tonight’s gig.” Claire clenched her fist, feeling the need to somehow channel her tension. “He would’ve come, but he’s already at the venue. You can ask him, if you want.”

“It’s...alright.” Claire got back inside, zipping up her sweatshirt. Thobbe followed her, his sneakers creaking on the wooden floor. She glared at him and, somehow, he understood. Claire, barefoot, quickly got to Chris’ room. She scouted it with her brown eyes, almost frantically. She found the big black case containing the guitar pedals, and grabbed it letting out a sigh. She went back to the house’s main door, and held her arm out to Thobbe. He sent her a smile, trying to be friendly. Claire imperceptibly lifted a corner of her mouth. She didn’t want to directly look up at his eyes, and she just wanted him to leave. His voice, his presence; all of it was making her feel horrible.

“Thank you.” he said, taking the big bag from her hand. “See you at the concert, I hope. Sorry for the bother.” Thobbe lifted a hand to wave at her. Claire waited for him to leave, feeling that these moments weren’t passing quickly enough. She let the door close, and leaned her back against it. Tears started filling her eyes and she brought a hand to her mouth. The kettle whistled, and she went back to the kitchen. A tear escaped her eye as she took the kettle from the fire, and took a mug from the counter above. Thobbe, of all people, was the person whose sight she dreaded the most. That unexpected, and most of all unwanted, encounter was the last thing she needed. Because like Chris had actually noticed, she wasn’t still over it. She wasn’t still over _him._ She wasn’t over the pain, the awful sensation of betrayal that she had felt. Every single day she tried to work on herself, trying to see that there were people worthy of her trust in the world. It wasn’t like she had stopped seeing Thobbe - him and Chris played in the same heavy metal band. Yet, that had been the first time in a while that he had dared to come knocking at her door. And sure as hell, he wasn’t welcome or allowed to do that in any way. 

 In that same moment, her smartphone that was resting on the kitchen table vibrated; she turned around, wiping the tears from her eyes, and felt some warmth getting to her heart as soon as she saw the name of the caller. She accepted the video call, and smiled at the familiar, smiling face that had appeared on the screen.

“Hey, sunshine.” Joakim said, from the video call. His eyes, his voice, the slightly dark circles under his eyelids. All of it. He was the fresh air she needed. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A journey in time and space.

_18 years earlier, somewhere near Göthenburg._

 

The weather outside was raging. A furious thunderstorm beat against the windows, with big and thick drops of water hitting the glass. The main door to the house opened, and the woman got in. She had a raincoat on, and she was holding a boy’s hand. He was silent, and slightly wet. Short brown hair, a pair of piercing brown eyes. Behind her, a man carried a girl. She must have been about nine years old, and she was peacefully asleep on his shoulders.

 

“You can leave her on the couch.” the woman said to the man in Swedish, speaking very softly. The boy left the woman’s hand, and slowly went to the kitchen. He opened the fridge, and grabbed the bottle of orange and carrot juice that was in it. He tiptoed to get a glass from the counter above the sink, and poured himself a glass. The woman sighed as she glanced at him. Then she looked after the man, who carefully put down the young girl on the couch. The woman grabbed the blanket that was resting on its edge, and laid on the girl’s body so she would not feel cold.

 

“Anything else we can do for you, Thorild?” the man asked. She shook her head, and sent him a tired smile. She accompanied him to the door.

 

“You already have done a lot. Say a huge thank you to everyone at the hospital.” she replied. The man then left the three people alone, going back out in the bad weather.

 

The boy was sitting at the table in the kitchen. One of his small fingers gently pushed on the bruises that he had right above his right eyebrow. The little girl was still slumbering, and seemed to have not noticed anything.

 

“Chris.” the woman went to the boy. She gently caressed his short hair, and leant down to leave a kiss on it. He took another sip of juice.

  
“Yes, g-g-grand-m-ma?” he replied. As he babbled, the woman felt something clutch her heart. It was very painful.

 

“Hawaii toast and baked beans for dinner.” she said, after a few seconds of silence. The boy smiled back at her, and nodded.

 

“I w-w-want t-t-o hel-p-p.” Chris said.

 

“If it makes you happy, of course.” the grandmother replied. Chris stood up, and went looking for the ingredients he needed in the various parts of the kitchen.

 

Thorild was fifty years old. She had this long braid of ice blonde hair, and she never went a day without it. Her nose was sharp and small, and her frame was thin but strong. She left the kitchen, and went to take a look at her niece, Claire. She was nuzzled under the blanket, her mouth slightly open. These days had been so exhausting for all of them, and seeing Claire finally asleep was a success. Thorild had had to hop on the first flight to Gothenburg, once that horrifying phone call had reached her, in England. From that point on, everything had gone by incredibly slowly: the moment in which she had entered the hospital, the moment in which she had seen her niece and nephew finally sleeping in the same bed, as a worried nurse watched over them, the moment in which she had learned that her son and her daughter-in-law had perished in a car crash. A hit and run driver, the police had said. A hit and run driver that had already been caught by the Swedish police.

Since the moment she had returned to Sweden to legally take custody of Chris and Claire, Thorild hadn’t stopped thinking about the pictures of her son’s car crushed on the front. Not even when she was signing the legal documents and when she was preparing everything form them to leave Sweden.

 

“Farmor.” In Swedish, she called her ‘grandma’. Claire opened her eyes, very slowly. Thorild sat on one edge of the sofa, and caressed her head.

 

“What is it, dear?”

 

“Brides.” her soft, sleepy voice said. Thorild felt something clutch to her heart. She knew what she was referring to, so she stood up from the sofa, and went looking in the drawers under the television. She took a specific cassette, and put it in the recorder. She turned on the television, and heard Chris’ steps behind her. He watched, curiously. As the overture from Seven Brides for Seven Brothers echoed in the room, Chris sat down next to Claire. Thorild looked at her niece and her nephew, feeling her heart getting warmer as she saw the small smile that climbed onto their lips as Adam, the main character, started singing in his powerful deep voice. It was their go-to movie for relaxing and taking thoughts out of their minds. She had shown it to them the first time. She left a kiss on their heads, and went back to the kitchen, finishing to prepare dinner for them.

 

Soon, the moment to talk to them about the huge change that there would have come in their lives would have come. To talk to them about their parents, to realize how they were going through it. The doctors had recommended a psychologist of course, but she would have thought about it once they would have been in England.

  


* * *

  


_Syria, present day._

 

Joakim’s steps were slow and exhausted. He hadn’t managed to take a look at himself yet, but he knew he could feel dirt and probably blood on his face as well. The day had been painfully long, spent in the most ruined parts of the city of Damascus. The experience he had been waiting for since he had stepped onto Syrian soil. It was the day before their departure.

 

He was silent, as he took the helmet and the tactical gear off. He took off the upper part of his uniform, and noticed how there were small bits of concrete and bricks still stuck in the fabric. His skin, under them, was scratched and slightly bruised. He went to the bathrooms, and opened the water. He saw his still bloody hands, and rushed to wash them. Then he looked at himself in the small mirror, and noticed how his expression had somehow changed. The beard on his cheeks had started growing again, and it wasn’t pleasant to touch. There were dark circles under his eyes, and even his eyes seemed different. His mind brought the events of the day back to him. And he felt sorrow build up in his heart again.

“Jocke.”

 

Pär was behind him, bringing him to the present again. His usual, peaceful expression was slightly worried now. Yet, he was trying to smile at him. His face was dirty, too. He placed a hand on his shoulder, and sighed.

 

“I’m alright.” Joakim replied.

 

“Are you sure?” Pär said.

 

“Yes.” He continued, grabbing a nearby towel and drying his face.

 

“Take a shower, it’ll do you good.” Pär said, untying his long hair. “You should call Claire.”

 

“I don’t feel like it.” Joakim said, taking off the white shirt he had on. Pär rolled his eyes.

 

“You should, instead.” The blonde man said. “Even just to say hi. It’ll help.” Pär momentarily stopped Joakim from undressing, and looked at him with his baby blue eyes. “If you want to talk about today, or-“

 

“I’ll talk about it if I want to, Pär.” Joakim interrupted him, feeling his jaw clench. “I guess I just need to rest, and go to sleep to make tomorrow arrive earlier. But I’ll recover from this, trust me.” The two men looked at each other in the eyes for a very long instant.

 

“Don’t play the tough guy with me.” Pär said, serious. “Don’t be afraid of talking. I just want you to remember that.” Joakim held his breath for a moment, before letting out a deep sigh.

 

“I understand your concern, as my sergeant and mostly as a friend.” Joakim replied. “I’ll come to you if there’s any problem, but I promise that I’ll be fine. Or else I’ll come ask for help.” He lifted the corner of his mouth in a peace settling smile. Pär patted his friend on the back, and sighed as well.

 

“I have your word then.” Pär said, before leaving Joakim in the bathroom. “I’ll leave you to your shower.” Joakim nodded, and directed himself towards the showers.

 

He let the rusty water tap open, and waited for the temperature to become warm enough. He finished to undress himself, and got under the stream. For a moment he withstood the water struggling to take off every trace of the day that had just passed. His hand helped to scratch off the dirt, the dust and the blood. He tilted his head back and let the warmth get to his senses, as he closed his eyes. Then, Joakim let himself slide down the walls of the shower, and sat down. His arms circled his legs, and he rested his head on the knees. That was it: the moment in which everything was finally over. He thanked God and every other deity of every pantheon that had ever existed, and sat there, thoughtless.

 

* * *

 _Sweden._  


Claire looked up at the ceiling in her bedroom. Her hand reached for the smartphone, and saw the time. It was about one o’clock in the morning. Irritated, she uncovered herself and got up from the bed. Her soft steps momentarily filled the air as she crossed the narrow hallway and overlooked Chris’ room. The door was open, as usual. She saw the dimmed light, and hoped for him to be awake. Yet, he had fallen asleep with the light still on, and a book in his hands. His mouth was slightly open, and he looked incredibly peaceful. Claire had always envied him for being able to fall asleep that quickly. She bit her lip for a moment, and then decided to have a try.

 

“Chris.” she called, in a whisper. Then, she got closer to him and sat on the edge of the bed. She gently pushed him on the shoulder, and then caressed a lock of his long brown hair. He let out a grumble, still keeping his eyes closed.

 

“What is it?” he said. His voice was low, and he slowly opened one of his eyes, glancing at her.

 

“Sorry.” she apologised, scratching the back of her neck - like she did every time she was nervous. Chris closed the book in front of himself, and placed it on the night table. Claire adjusted herself on the bed, sitting cross-legged next to him; then, she took a lock of his hair between her fingers, and started braiding it. Chris shrugged his shoulders in agreement, and let out a yawn.

 

“Joakim is coming back tomorrow.” Chris stated. “That’s why you can’t sleep. And also because you drink too much caffeine lately.” Claire’s small fingers worked his hair from the top of his head. She stopped for a moment, almost as if she wanted to think about what to say next.

 

“I’m not...nervous.” she replied. “I’m curious, and...scared.” Chris listened. He finally opened both of his eyes, and looked at her.

 

“Scared of what?” Chris said, with a chuckle. Claire sighed, letting go of his hair.

 

“Scared that things are becoming...you know, real.” she explained. “I won’t be able to hide myself behind a screen anymore, because he’s a real person, in flesh and bones. And I don’t know how I’m going to deal with that.” the older brother thought about it for a moment. After all, she wasn’t completely wrong. The only thing he knew was that she wasn’t as tough as she wanted to show. She was definitely more insecure that she demonstrated, especially when it came to relationship.

“The fact that you have been alone for a while, and the fact that you’re still hurt from what happened with Thobbe is surely playing a part on this.” Claire glared at Chris. She hated when she mentioned Thobbe. Actually, she didn’t want him to be mentioned ever again. “By the way, have you told Joakim about him?”

 

“Of course not.” Claire hurried to say. “I don’t think it’s time for him to know that I was about to...well he doesn’t need to know, not yet.” Chris rolled his eyes, and uncovered himself, sitting cross-legged in front of her.

 

“Okay.” he replied. “Anyway, just see how it goes when you actually start seeing him in person. Simple as that.”

 

“What if I don’t like the way he eats? Or if he picks his nose? Or if he has bad music taste.” Claire almost gasped. “I wouldn’t stand that. I think he had a Judas Priest on the night I met him so maybe-” Chris placed a hand on her mouth, preventing her from going on talking.

 

“Enough.” he said. “Listen to me for once in your life, and just wait to see what happens.” Claire sighed.

 

“Should I go pick him up at the airport tomorrow?” she asked, shyly. Chris reflected upon it for a moment.

 

“I love when you come pick me up at the airport. I think he will like it.” he said.

 

“You love it because I’m your sister.” Claire said. He chuckled and ruffled up her hair.

 

“I promise he will like it.” Chris replied. “If he won’t, he’s not human.” Claire smiled at her brother, and leant in to leave a kiss on his cheek.

 

“Good talk.” she said, as she got down from his bed. “I’ll make myself a chamomile and then try to sleep. Again.” Chris smiled back at her, and got under the covers again.

 

“Anytime.” he yawned. “If I’m going to fall asleep while teaching tomorrow it’s going to be your fault.” Already in the corridor, his sister let out a soft laugh. He turned off the light, and heard Claire putting the kettle on to make herself the hot beverage she was mentioning before.

 

Claire, in the kitchen, looked at the kettle on the fire. She thought about the next day, she thought about all the calls that had occurred in the past month with Joakim. His face appeared in front of her eyes, his green and smiling eyes making her smile to herself. She was really fighting against herself, so that she would not have too much of something that could be very dangerous. Hope. Tomorrow.

 

“Tomorrow never knows what it doesn’t know too soon…” she sang to herself as she poured the hot water in the mug.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again to all the lovely people that are enjoying my story and asking me when I'll publish the next chapter! This one has been in the works for a while, and I'm so glad of how it came out. Enjoy! <3

_ Tuesday, you see, she had to be free _

_ But somehow I've got to carry on… _

 

The music in Joakim’s ears was definitely soothing. Sunglasses on, he had been lucky enough to be sitting in one of the most comfortable seats of the military plane. As Lynyrd Skynyrd kept singing from his mp3 player, he felt a hand touch his shoulder. It was, obviously, P ä r.

 

“We’re twenty minutes away from Stockholm.” he said, quietly. Joakim opened one of his eyes behind his sunglasses, like a cat waking up from his slumber. 

 

“Good for you.” he muttered. He crossed his arms on his chest, as he heard his friend chuckle lightly. 

 

Not too long after that very brief conversation Joakim felt the airplane seat under his bottom shake; the vehicle had successfully landed in the capital city of Sweden. Joakim sighed, and looked at his companions around him, getting ready to get out. Everyone was certainly happy to be home. He took his phone out of his uniform’s pocket, and turned it back on. Joakim tapped on the screen as he stood up from his seat, sending a text to his mother. His phone vibrated with the answer a couple of minutes later, just as he was walking the corridor to get off the plane. He smiled at the screen, seeing that she had sent him a “Great. Talk soon.” together with at least a dozen happy emoticons. 

 

As he directed himself towards the customs with passport at hand, following the members of his division, he suddenly remembered something. He had promised to send a text to Claire as well, just to tell her that he had landed. Joakim searched for her through his contacts, and started writing: “Safe and sound at Stockholm airport”. He had his backpack on as the group of men walked inside the building. It was a pleasantly chilly evening, after the dry air of the desert that he had been breathing for a month. The sun was about to go down beyond the horizon, as a very precise line of red light framed the dark frame of the Earth. Claire answered, asking him if he could send her another text once he was definitely out of the airport. “Of course”, he had replied to her, wondering what it could all be about. 

 

 

Claire was tapping her foot on the concrete, outside the Arlanda Airport in Stockholm. She looked around at the massive amount of people coming out and going inside, warming her hands with a cup of takeaway coffee. She hated her hands: they were always freezing, in every season of the year. Claire looked at the watch on her wrist, and then put the hand back in her pocket. She had of course adjusted herself to the climate of Sweden, and coming from England things hadn’t changed that much. Yet, she loved the beautiful, sunny and cold days that he country that was now her home gifted her from time to time. 

 

That had been one of those days: she had gone to work at university with a smile on her face, and had actually enjoyed teaching as an assistant. Despite the fact that it had been a quite positive day, hours didn’t seem to want to speed up. And she knew exactly why: that was  _ the day.  _ The day in which Joakim was coming back from Syria. Now that she was actually waiting for him to get out of these sliding doors time had stopped again. She was nervous beyond every limit, and she knew she was taking a risk. Maybe he didn’t want to see her, maybe he was too tired. It was the first time in her life that she had decided to do something so impulsive. She was a person that used to plan everything. And now…

 

Her phone vibrated and she felt a lump in her throat. She read the text, biting on her lower lip. “Out of the arrivals terminal : )”. That was when Claire started looking around, tiptoeing so that she could see better. He was very recognizable as well, so she wouldn’t have a hard time finding him. She tapped his name on the smartphone, and called him. It took him a few seconds, but he finally answered. 

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey, Joakim.” Claire said, as she kept looking around. “Welcome back.” 

 

“Thanks.” he replied, with a soft chuckle. “What are you up to?” 

 

In the meantime, Claire walked on the sidewalk. At about twenty metres from her, she saw him. The dark green uniform made him stand out, she watched as he removed his sunglasses from his eyes. He looked slimmer, definitely. Joakim was taller than she remembered, with broad shoulders and strong arms. She slowly got closer to him. 

 

“Not much. Just picking you up at the airport.” she answered. 

 

As he heard these words, Joakim stopped on his feet. He turned around, and saw Claire coming towards him. Without a word, he stared at his phone for a minute of trance. Then, he focused on her. On her beige coat, on her dark hair and on the glasses framing her eyes. She was holding the smartphone in her hand, as she waved at him with the other. She was, after all, real. They were now in front of each other. Joakim looked at her, his mouth falling slightly open. The buzz of people around them made him feel like he was in a bubble with her. Everything was muffled up, and incredibly slow. 

 

“I guess...surprise!” Claire said, smiling at him. 

 

“I’m...I’m speechless, actually.” Joakim felt a smile climb onto his lips. He nervously passed a hand on his mohawk, and felt an incredibly warm sensation take possession of his heart. “Come here.” He let down his backpack and widened his arms, and embraced her. Claire replied to the hug, letting her arms slide around his waist, feeling how sincere he was being. It was...good. It was so good to finally have him there. 

 

“I’m here to give you a lift to go home.” Claire said. “If you want to, of course.” Joakim gently brushed his hand on her shoulder, and sighed, content. 

 

“How can I say no to such an offer?” he replied, and Claire immediately smiled at him once again. He loved the red shade that her cheeks had taken. From that distance, he could see the freckles around her nose.

 

* * *

 

 

After a couple of minutes, they were sitting in Claire’s car. She tapped her fingers on the wheel as she drove, following Joakim’s directions from time to time. He was humming to the song on the radio, and observed the girl every time he could. He had learned to know her during that month of daily calls, but he could have never imagined that she would have been so shy and incredibly cute around him. He wasn’t much of a talkative person as well, but he really didn’t want to ruin that moment of peace and quiet, as they were driving through Stockholm in the evening. He wanted to look at her and get lost into her movements, tracking them so that they could be printed into his memory, forever. 

 

Claire, on the other hand, was trying her best at appearing...nice. She had gotten out of work just in time to come and pick Joakim up, and she hadn’t even taken the time to put some make-up on. She hoped he didn’t bother to look at her too closely, so he would not see the eye circles, the imperfections, and everything else that was wrong with her face. 

 

Joakim looked bigger, and his face was thinner. She could see the line of his cheekbones, and she really liked the beard framing his jaw. It was almost like a game of hide and seek: she looked at him when he didn’t look at her. 

 

“Turn left at the next traffic light.” Joakim said, pointing out to the right. Claire nodded, and waited in line with the other cars to go through. Joakim bit on his thumb’s nail, feeling an unstoppable buzz in his head. He was thinking about something, yet he wasn’t sure if it would have worked out. “It was incredibly nice of you to come pick me up.” he added. “There, you can park right in front of the tattoo parlor.” Claire smiled at him, and stopped the car where he had indicated. 

 

“It really wasn’t a problem.” she said, shrugging her shoulders. She let her hands down on her thighs, and sat there for a second. Then, all of a sudden, Joakim unlocked his seatbelt, and turned on the passenger’s seat so that he would face Claire. He took one of her hands in his, and let out a deep sigh. 

 

“Claire, listen to me.” he said. “Why do we have to wait to go on a proper first date? Why can’t we go and have our date now?” Claire widened her eyes as she looked deep into his. 

 

“ _ Now?!”  _ she replied, as she felt her heart start to race. “But how?” Joakim let a chuckle out. 

 

“You women are all the same.” he said. “We just take the car and go eat somewhere nice where we can relax, get to know each other and do ordinary first date stuff.” 

 

“But I wanted to look nice on our first date...I wanted to...come on. Please understand this.” Claire was feeling embarrassed to say the least. Embarrassed,  yet flattered. He wanted to go on their first date on that same night, and it wasn’t exactly how she had imagined it. 

 

“I understand that I just want...I want you. No matter how you look or how you’re dressed.” Joakim replied. “I know this seems like something straight out of a romantic comedy, but please accept my invitation.” he looked at her with his amazing green eyes, and felt the blood pulse in her hand’s skin. “You made me a wonderful gift by coming at the airport. Now I’m just asking you for a little more effort to come with me, sit at a dining table in a nice, laid back restaurant, where we can have a drink and enjoy our first date.” Claire looked at him for a very long instant. Then she looked at the cars passing by them, and closed her eyes. 

 

“I’m even uglier when I’m not hiding behind a screen.” Claire said. “And you won’t even let me go put some makeup on.” Joakim smiled at her. 

 

“Come on.” he said, gently brushing on her hand with his fingers. “It will be fun. You have no makeup, I didn’t get to take a shower. We’re going to be ugly and smelly, alright? I don’t want to wait for our first date. I think this...can be our first date.” Claire had chuckled at his sentence. He wasn’t that wrong. Most of all, the thing she liked the most was that  _ he couldn’t wait.  _

 

“Okay.” 

 

“Okay?” 

 

“Yes.” she turned the engine back on. “Just tell me where to go.” Joakim brought the hand to his mouth, and left a kiss on its back. 

 

“How do you feel about Mexican food?” he said. “Don’t know about you, but I love it.”

 

Half an hour later they were sitting in a small restaurant. It was a Mexican tavern, to which they had accessed through a stair that went down to a wonderful room with arches made of stone. Joakim knew the owners, and had been greeted as a friend. There was a tall glass with a frozen Margarita in front of Claire, while Joakim had chosen a Daiquiri. Claire thought it extremely amusing: they were in a capital of a northern country, eating Mexican food. 

 

Claire felt her shyness climb to a very high level. On the other hand, Joakim wouldn’t stop talking. Most of all, he was making her laugh. She loved his accent, he spoke English very well. From time to time she glanced at the details of his uniform, at his eyebrows making his face incredibly expressive. Her fingers played with the cocktail glass, as she listened to him talk about his recent travel and how dusty Syria was. 

 

“Anyway, there’s a lot of things about you that I don’t know.” Claire said, then. “It’s a first date, right? So I guess there’s a few things you’d like to know about me.” Joakim took a sip of his cocktail and grabbed a tortilla from the plate that they were sharing. He sucked some guacamole off his index finger and hinted at her. 

 

“Do you want to begin?” he said. Claire took a deep breath and nodded. 

 

“As you already know, my name is Claire Norling. I’m a hundred percent Swedish, even though my accent betrays me.” Joakim chuckled. “I’ve moved to England when I was five years old, after...after losing my parents in a car accident.” Joakim looked up at her face. She didn’t seem sad. Yet, she appeared resigned. 

 

“I’m sorry about that.” he said, in a soft voice. 

 

“Thank you.” she smiled shyly at him. “My brother and my grandmother played a huge part in making me grow up well despite this horrible...thing.” she explained. “I grew up in England, and then decided to come to Sweden to become a philologist, specialized in Nordic languages.” The man nodded, interested in what she had to say. 

 

“Did you meet someone interesting while studying?” Joakim asked, playfully. Claire let a chuckle out. 

 

“That’s the really sad part of my story.” she said. 

 

“And that’s the part I’m most curious about.” he replied. “Are we getting to know each other or not?” 

 

“Alright.” she sighed. Joakim loved her British accent every time she said that word. He could almost feel the weight of her missing Rs and her strong Ts. “Around the first part of my first year in Stockholm, I met with a childhood friend of my brother. Turns out he’s studying to become a composer together with Chris, and long story short he stops by at the house we’re living in quite often.” Claire paused for a second, remembering those times in her head. “His name was...or better, is Thobbe. Long blonde hair, extraordinary blue eyes.”

 

“Typical Swedish type.” Joakim laughed. Claire nodded. 

 

“We ended up together for at least four years while we were studying, and that’s when...when he asked me to marry me.” Joakim lifted his thick eyebrows. 

 

“And did you…?”

 

“Here comes the fun part.” Claire said, shrugging her shoulders. “Everybody was happy for me, even Chris. So there I was, planning my fairytale wedding with the one that was, apparently, the man of my dreams.”

 

“Then?”

 

“Three months before the wedding, on that day I was at university. That’s when Thobbe turns up, unexpectedly. He had his usual smile. You know, that kind of smile that makes your legs feel like they’re going to fail under your weight.” Joakim had a hand under his chin, his elbow resting on the table. “He took my hands in his, and...confessed to me that he had cheated on me at least four times in the past years, with four different women.” Joakim widened his green eyes. He could feel her voice break a little, yet he could tell how hard it had been for her to get past all of it. 

 

“This sucks.” 

 

“Totally.” she added, with a laugh. “And you want to know something even better? He said that he wanted to keep it all a secret, because he had changed, and go on with our life as if nothing had happened. He said he loved me beyond everything, and in his best hopes, he thought I would forgive him for betraying me.” 

 

“And since you don’t have a ring on your finger…”

 

“I didn’t forgive him.” she said, stating the obvious. “I made him pay for everything we had already set up for the wedding, and he was okay with that. I’ve been single for almost two years now, while he has...he got married. Six months ago.” Unexpectedly, Joakim placed his big hand on hers, that was resting on the table. Claire looked up at his face, and felt like home. 

 

“You made it through.” he said. “That’s remarkable.” 

 

“I come from a lineage of strong women.” she said, with a chuckle. “I still get to see Thobbe every now and then, because he has recently started a band with my brother. But it doesn’t hurt anymore. It just makes me...angry, I guess?” 

 

Joakim looked at her. The way her eyes wandered around the bar, the calm voice with which she had told him about one of her deepest sufferings. She had opened herself to him; now it was his turn. 

 

“It’s your turn, mister soldier.” she said. Her hand was still under his. She gently pulled it out, and played with his fingers, using her own. Joakim let a short sigh out, and smiled.

 

“Sure.” Joakim replied. “It was a dark, and stormy night…”

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

“First of all, I was married once.” Joakim said, after taking a breath. He looked at Claire’s face, observing if her muscles were having a flinch that could signal disapproval. Her eyes immediately went to his left hand, finding nothing. Joakim lifted a corner of his mouth, in a half smile. He showed her the hand, on which there wasn’t a wedding ring anymore. 

 

“How did it end?” Claire asked. 

 

“I buried the ring in Syria, in the desert.” Joakim said, adjusting his elbows on the table. “How do you think it ended?” Claire tapped with her fingers on the glass, and remained silent. 

 

“Not good, I guess.” 

 

“Precisely.” Joakim said. “We got married a year after high school. She was Swedish, of Polish origins. We had been together all through our school years. And then we said, ‘why not?’ so we planned a very simple wedding day, and everything started.” Claire listened, her eyes waiting on his jawline. “It was a bliss at first. We enjoyed our married life, and we went on like that. I had enroled in the army after getting my major in european history.” 

 

“Oh.” She said, a smile appearing on her lips. “I wouldn’t have imagined that.” Joakim scoffed.

 

“Is it because I don’t look that smart?” 

 

“No! Jesus, no.” Claire added, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean that.” Claire didn’t know how to come out of that. She looked down at her sweater, feeling her ears burning; until she felt Joakim’s fingers on her hand. It was warm, big. Twice as his. 

 

“I’m kidding.” He said. “I didn’t get offended.” She looked up at his eyes, feeling his gaze. She couldn’t quite tell it yet, but she felt like his eyes were an image of kindness, and they mirrored all that was good in the world. Yet, he seemed different from the days in which he talked to him in their videocalls. But at first, she didn’t really mind that. 

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Sure as the Nazis losing World War II and sure as the conspiracy theories saying Hitler is alive and well in Argentina.” Joakim said, raising his eyebrows. Claire smiled, finally. She sighed, and took a sip of her cocktail. He leant back again, and tapped his fingers on the table. 

 

“Please, go on.” She said. 

 

“I warned you it’s a sad story though.” 

 

“I told you my sad story.” she said, scrolling her shoulders. “Still, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.” Joakim thought about for a moment. Talking about it made it real. He had made the first step towards his healing in Syria, when he had buried his wedding ring forever. He looked down to his fingers: for a moment it seemed to him that they were trembling. He came back to reality, and decided to take another inevitable step. Opening himself to Claire about his story, just like she had done. He didn’t know why she felt like being that open to him, but it seemed to him as an incredibly sweet act of trust. 

 

“I want to tell you my story.” he finally said. “I’m sure it will help. Anyway, we had been married for a year now. Everything seemed to go smoothly. She wasn’t a passionate or romantic type, I was. I tried to forget the day in which it all started to go downhill, but it’s one of these days that get inevitably printed in your mind.”

 

“I get what you’re saying.” she confessed to him. Joakim felt a spontaneous smile climb onto his lips. 

 

“I came home late from my afternoon training. I found her note saying she had to work an extra shift at the hospital - she was a nurse.” Joakim drank again, hissing through his teeth because of the alcohol. “I went to take a shower, and something in the trash bin had caught my attention. It was a pregnancy test, and that is how I found out she was pregnant.” Joakim said, his finger playing around the glass’ edge. He looked resignated, calm. “I found out from the test in the bathroom. But I guess I found out too late.”   
  
“Why?” Claire asked, with a feeble voice. She didn’t know what to think. It almost seemed like she wouldn’t have wanted to know. A veil of sadness came down on his green eyes.    
  
“I was so excited, I almost could jump around the apartment without stopping. I decided to wait for her awake, to hug her, and kiss her, and tell her how happy I was.” Claire could see he was trying hard to stay calm. She could see his lower lip slightly shaking, his fingers gripping around the glass. He took a big gulp before going on. “I waited for her on the door, ready to share my happiness with her. That was when she looked at me with a calmness that I almost found disturbing. She candidly admitted that, without asking me, without talking to me about her pregnancy, she had decided to have an abortion.” Joakim said the sentence in a single breath, almost as if he wanted to spit it out. Claire’s lower lip fell down slightly. 

“We had a fight, a huge fight. I cried, I remember I smashed my fists so hard on the kitchen table that I cracked it a little. She replied that she wasn’t ready, and that it wasn’t a decision we could take together. Her body, her rules.” He took another sip of beer, slowly. “I told her everything I felt in my heart. I told her that if she didn’t feel like sharing something this big with her husband, then ours would never be a real family. I was shocked, I...couldn’t believe how selfish and careless she had been with this decision.” Claire was, sincerely, at a loss for words. What do you say to somebody that has had this experience? What do you say to a person that decides to tell you such a thing, showing his open heart to you? 

 

“What did you do?” Claire said. She felt kind of silly asking that. 

 

“I left. It was an impulsive thing to do, but I know I would never feel like fixing such a thing. I preferred to be alone, to go on with my life without her.” he said, almost relieved. “That night I went to my friend P är’s house. I bet he still hates me for arriving there uninvited. But I must admit he was comprehensive. Very comprehensive.” 

“Joakim...I...I’m sorry. That’s really all that I can say, and I feel quite stupid saying that.” Claire admitted. Joakim looked up at her brown eyes. He could feel her empathy, he could feel that she felt helpless, incapable of helping him out. Still, she sat there. She tried her best, she really did. To tell the truth, he felt incredibly happy that she was there. With every moment spent in her company, he felt like she could be “the next step.” 

  
  


They stayed at the bar until it closed. Their chatting filled the air until the moment the owner decided to offer them one last shot to face the cold Swedish autumn night waiting outside for them. After their painful exchange of experiences, they had been talking about various stuff: small talk, mainly. But that had been enough to keep them hanging from each other’s lips. Claire wanted to hear him talking forever. He was a talker, he really was. And she had always been a good listener. 

 

“I’ve been in Sweden for about ten years now. Yet I get amazed every time I look at how clear the sky in this country his.” Claire stated, as she got out of her parked the car in front of Joakim’s house. She took out a slim cigarette, and lit it up. Joakim observed the cloud of hot air coming out of her mouth, before taking his military backpack from the backseat. 

 

“I’ve missed it, actually.” Joakim said, leaning on the car next to her as she kept smoking. “Putting a Swedish man in the desert is like leaving a polar bear in a tropical fish tank.” Claire chuckled. 

 

“Well I’ll never get used to the cold though.” she said, with a sigh. “I’m afraid my northern blood has failed me. I’m cold blooded. Like a lizard.” Joakim laughed. He couldn’t even admit to himself how lighthearted she was making him feel. “You better go to bed, private.”

 

“Lieutenant.” he said. “I got promoted.”

 

“Wow.” she said. “And that is...a good thing?” 

 

Joakim had a flash of  _ that day  _ in front of his eyes for a moment. He felt his head dizzy, but immediately got back to reality. Claire noticed that. 

 

“Are you alright?” she said, worried. Joakim looked at her again, and brushed a hand on her shoulder. He got hold of his breath again, and finally smiled at her. 

 

“I...I am.” he lied. “I’m still dizzy from the airplane travel. The military ones aren’t exactly a charm to travel in.” Claire nodded, understanding. “Thank you. Thank you so much for this date, for taking me out, for picking me up and for bringing me home. I...seriously. I’m glad you accepted my bet.” 

 

“I’m glad I accepted it too.” she answered, almost in a hurry. Almost as if she wanted to let it out from the first moment he had met her. Almost in slow motion, she watched him lean down, and leave a kiss on each of her cheek. He hugged her, bringing her close to him. Then, he left another long, sweet and unexpected kiss on her forehead. She smiled at him, feeling that warm, agitated sensation climb up in her stomach. 

 

“Good night.” he said. “And thank you, so much.”

 

“Thank you, Joakim.” she added. He smiled once more at her. He brought her hand to his lips, and left a kiss on its back. 

 

“Let’s not wait too long for this second date. Promise?” he said, as he walked towards his house, still looking at her. She passed a hand in her hair and bit on her lower lip. 

 

“No. I promise.” 

 

“Friday?”

 

“Friday? Already? But it’s only wednesday!”

 

“Come on...”

 

“Alright. Alright!” she said, smiling like a little girl. “I have a concert to go to. Will you come? But first, dinner at my house.” Joakim nodded. He felt his heart rejoice. 

 

“Good.” he said. “I promise I won’t stink like today.”

 

_ I love your smell. Please don’t ever take a shower again.  _

 

“You better.” Claire added, hiding her real thoughts. She waved at him, and got in the car. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Love you all. <3  
> -mareavera


End file.
